I hate my uterus. Part VI.
Aw, it's been a while since I wrote one of these crazy PMS entries. I sort-of miss them.
So today at the grocery store I ran into this woman I used to work with a few years ago who is one of the nicest people you will ever meet. We bump into each other now and again and exchange the normal pleasantries. We don't know each other all that well, but that didn't keep me from telling her, in the vegetable aisle of the grocery store:
1. How meaningless I find my job 90% of the time and how it makes me feel like I am dying on the inside.
2. How I have been sleeping around since my last relationship with a narcissistic asshole ended.
3. How I have an escape plan of quitting everything, moving back in with my parents and becoming a dance teacher.
She listened to everything with a smile. I then wandered around the grocery store on the verge of tears, aimlessly, until I realized this was just PMS.
So now I have cake and ice cream, vodka and cranberry juice, and half a pack of cigarettes. I will be ingesting these until I fall asleep or start menstruating. Yay, unhealthy coping skills! TV will also probably be involved.
Peace out, yo.